


Acedia

by Atroposisms



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!, Yu-Gi-Oh! Series
Genre: Asphyxiation, Begging, Bloodplay, Bondage, Branding, Breathplay, Cutting, Dubious Consent, Edgeplay, F/M, Masochism, Not Canon Compliant, Reader-Insert, Rough Sex, Sadism, Sadomasochism, Scarification, Smut, Tags May Change, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-25
Updated: 2018-03-11
Packaged: 2018-11-04 17:52:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10995936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Atroposisms/pseuds/Atroposisms
Summary: He was a monster, yet you invited him into your life, and begged him to devour you from beneath. And how sweet it was, a heady rush, to be obliterated in such a manner that you no longer cared for anything but him.





	1. I. Vulneret (To Pierce)

**Author's Note:**

> For simplicity's sake, Marik is how I will be referring to Yami Marik (he only knows himself as Marik, at any rate). There's no particular aspect of the timeline this story fits into, and I took some minor liberties with the power of the Millenium Rod, as they're somewhat nebulous. 
> 
> Find me on Tumblr @ atroposisms
> 
> As always, thank you for reading/leaving comments/kudos/bookmarks/subscribing

I. Vulneret (to pierce)

His arms had around themselves around your waist, tugging you flush against him. You could feel his mouth near your ear, breath hot. It was unexpectedly intimate, and you knew the sane part of you was screaming at you to run.  
  
“Such a weak and foolish girl,” he whispered, and you felt shame flood through you as you bit your lip hard, forcing back a moan. It shouldn’t be this easy for him, there was no way that a stranger could do this to you. Those hands dug deep into your flesh, and this time you winced audibly. “Masochistic little girl, so willing to let yourself be caught by someone like me...to be destroyed.”  
  
You were trembling now.  
  
“Yes please.” It took an extraordinary amount of effort to force those words out. “Destroy me.”  
  
He turned you around so you faced him, body still pressed close against yours. One hand grabbed hold of your chin, forced you to look up at him.  
  
You held his gaze, stared into that face, and knew. Knew that he was right, you were weak and foolish and you would be utterly lost without him now.  
  
His eyes held a crazed look.  
  
“That’s what you want, but how about what _I_  want?”

-

It was almost disturbing how reckless you were, always searching for the next thrill. Speeding on a motorcycle, bungee jumping that graduated to skydiving, rock climbing, racing... Always seeking the next thrill, something that would break apart your daily tedium. Something, anything, to end the ennui.  
  
But the adrenaline rush was always temporary. On bad days, you would be bored halfway through whatever it was you were doing. On good days, they would last for minutes after the event, your heart pounding and pulse racing in your ears.  
  
And so you took to seeking out danger. Something that would make your heart race for more than a few minutes at a time, something that would make you feel. You wanted to stare it in the face, desperately hoping that with death standing around the corner, the rush would last longer.  
  
Those moments never did, but then you met him. And he knew you, somehow could see and understand that you needed someone like him.  
  
For the first time, you tasted fear in your mouth.  
 

-

You didn’t have a death wish per se, but death always seemed to be so exciting to you. A total unknown, no way to predict what would happen. The thrill of chasing it, never knowing when death would finally show up to claim you or if you would escape him by the skin of your teeth.  
  
It was rather macabre of you, you supposed.  
  
You agreed to what he said, still staring into his eyes, watching them dilate. He let out a low laugh that sent your heart skittering erratically.  
  
The world turned dark then, and you started - not in the sense that you had suddenly become blind but... You looked around, tipping your head back to look up at the night sky. The stars and moon had been blotted out by a sweeping rush of black. Around you, the neon lights of bar signs and street lights flickered once, twice, and then dampened, casting a sinister sheen over everything. And it was cold, suddenly so cold for what was supposed to be a warm summer night; you found yourself thankful for his proximity.  
  
But then he stepped back from you, and you wrapped your arms around yourself. The shame was back; you had barely managed to hold back a whimper.  
  
This was dangerous. He was dangerous, and the fear was horribly addictive.  
  
You watched warily as he drew forth a deck of cards, and then two from the top.  
  
“What’s that -“ Your words were cut off as you gasped in shock; golden chains had appeared from nowhere, manacles at the end of them.  
  
“The fuck is this?” You screamed, and struggled against the chains; a small part of you had hoped that maybe someone would hear, but no one came. Fear bloomed in your chest; these were moving of their own accord, and you could see him standing a few feet away, watching carefully. In short order, you found yourself suspended in mid-air and spreadeagled, the chains wrenching your limbs apart until they were almost popping out of your joints from the strain.  
  
You were breathing shallowly now; this was what you wanted, wasn’t it? A taste of actual danger, of true fear? Maybe death was actually lurking around the corner, here to take you away.  
  
He was circling you now, and you knew that you had become captured prey in his eyes (or maybe you already had been?). Despite the terror, you wanted to know what he would do to you.  
  
“Marik,” he said finally, coming to a stop in front of you, gently taking your chin in his hand and giving you a small shake. “I want you to know my name, want to know how you’ll sound when you scream it.” Marik’s voice became rough, and you didn’t miss the sexual overtone to his words. Couldn’t miss it.  
  
“Marik...” You whispered, trying out his name, and decided that you liked it.  
  
Apparently he did, too.  
  
Marik circled you a few more times, before finally coming to a halt in front of you again. Some sort of golden rod had appeared in his hand, a bright silver blade at the end of it. You opened you mouth to ask him where it had come from, but stopped when the blade slipped easily through your clothes, leaving them in shreds and tatters.  
  
You shivered. “I’m cold...” you whispered, unable to believe how banal and stupid that sounded.  
  
“Oh?” Marik looked amused. The point of the blade was pricking at your skin, resting in the hollow of your collarbone. He drew it south, slowly, the sharp edge scarcely touching your skin until it rested against your stomach. Your breath came faster now, anticipation mingling with the fear. And then there was pressure, and slowly, oh god so slowly, he cut a line into you. The blade was sharp enough, almost like a scalpel, that your skin parted easily beneath it. But the skill and the slowness of the action served to draw pain out of you. A thin rivulet of blood trickled down your skin.  
  
“Are you still cold?” He asked mockingly.  
  
“Yes.” Your voice was barely a whisper.  
  
Marik gave a low chuckle, and then there was another thin line of pain and then another, and another, and another. He was staring intently at you the whole time, a challenge in his expression. You refused to beg or scream his name to stop, not this easily. More cuts, and more, until you lost count and the front of your torso was awash with blood.  
  
“And now?”  
  
“Not anymore.” You offered a smirk of your own at him, and he looked delighted, perhaps pleased that you hadn’t caved to the pain so easily. The man circled you a third time, except this time he was touching you...his free hand trailed softly along the length of your back, up the side of your neck, running through your hair, tracing the lines of your collarbones. You imagined this was how a lover would touch you, gentle and intimate. Then his fingers dipped to your stomach, running through the blood. Without warning, he dug his nails into the wounds and you bit down hard on your lip to stifle a cry of pain.  
  
And you couldn’t help it, you felt dampness drip from your pussy. More shame, but the mortification and pain somehow turned you on even more.  
  
Looking satisfied and thoughtful, he rested his hand against your stomach, but didn’t dig his fingers into the cuts again.  
  
“Your body is a temple...” He started and you knew it was a comment, not a compliment. “A saying I heard someone use. A rather poor analogy.”  
  
“I’ve heard it,” you said, barely able to hear him over the roar of your heart in your ears.  
  
Marik tilted his head to the side, looking at you. It struck you how handsome he was, in a deranged sort of way. Now you knew why people were attracted to murderers like Ted Bundy; there was a dark allure there.  
  
“A terrible saying. Temples are places of worship, yes... but are almost always the first places to be destroyed in battle. And how easily destroyed they are...burnt down, desecrated, utterly ruined.” There was a promise in those words. “Rebuilt, only to be torn down again and again into dust.”  
  
His fingers crept to your mouth, smearing your lips with your own blood. Marik was staring at you intently, and slid his two fingers into your mouth. You whimpered, closing your eyes, and tasted your own blood. You ran your tongue between the two digits, sucking hard. You opened your eyes again, wanting to see how he would react.  
  
Those eyes had darkened again, and you saw that he repressed a shiver. You moaned around those fingers, licking them clean of blood, and couldn’t believe how turned on you were by this man.  
  
Pulling his fingers from your mouth, he stepped back. An expectant look was in his eyes.  
  
“Ruin me.” The words fell easily from your lips. “Desecrate me. Please.”  
  
Marik gently patted your cheek, a mad smile on his face.  
  
“All in due time, my little girl.”


	2. II. Inquinō (To Defile)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep, finally, finally, here comes an update after so damn long.
> 
> Thanks to everyone who waited!
> 
> Find me on Tumblr @ Atroposisms

II.  Inquinō (To Defile)

The touch of his fingers, tracing out the thin scars, were gentle - almost a caress. Slowly, he traced out the name he had cut into you, his name. It had taken quite some time for those cuts to heal, as when he visited you, he would dig his nails into them - reopening them, and making you cry out at the sharp burn.

Hurting you was merely a part of his goal. The other was to make sure that they would scar over, ensuring that you would bear a permanent reminder of him.

You liked it.

In between his visits, you had a flash of inspiration in trying to make sure they would scar. You would gaze at yourself in the mirror, tracing those lines as he was doing now. As he did, you would dig your nails into the cuts, tearing them open. Carefully soaking a gauze pad, you placed it over the open cuts, hissing between clenched teeth as the hydrogen peroxide seeped into the wounds.

The irritant - along with the help of the two of you - worked, and now there were raised, dark pink scars across your stomach.

His nail dug down too deeply into the still-tender scar tissue, and you winced.

"When they start to fade, I'll have to restore them...." Dark violet eyes flicked up to yours, and Marik grinned lazily seeing your eyes cloud over at the thought, the way your breath caught in your throat. "A nice permanent claim, isn't that nice?"

You swallowed. "Yes, it's very nice."

His. Just his.

You were certain he had no other toy but you.

* * *

 

More often than not, his visits were brief - sometimes just to toy with you. A little bit of bloodletting here, a little bt there. Quickly, your arms and legs became covered in a myriad of cuts - some were quite large, others were small nicks.

You weren't sure if it was intentional, but those short visits always left you wanting more. More, what?

You exhaled shakily. It was very easy for Marik to send your thoughts scattering in a thousand different directions, making it difficult to form solid thoughts.

More pain.

That, he gave you freely, relishing in the way the blood beaded along your cuts, finally forming thin rivulets that striped your skin. He pressed his lips, almost reverently, against one of the deeper cuts on your thigh. The tip of his tongue traced along the length of it, sending little shudders along your body, and the chains that held your body upright clinked gently against one another.

"Marik," you whined. You wanted to rub your thighs together, wanting a little bit of friction to ease the ache that was steadily gathering between your legs. There was no response, except for him to wriggle his tongue slightly into the cut, widening it further and elicited a sharp shriek from you, trying to jerk your body backwards away from him. But he gripped harder at your waist, fingers digging into to hold you still as he took his time to play with the wound.

The sharp pain soon spread into a dull burn, and oh, yes, a part of you was ashamed that it turned you on, and the shame perversely turned you on further - a self-perpetuating cycle that left you dripping wet and gasping.

Normally he would stop here after teasing you cuts, leaving you desperate and whining for something more. You always wanted more, and on some days you would find yourself begging for him to continue, to do something, anything, you didn't care what, just to not stop -

Finally, finally, he granted you what you wanted: more.

When Marik had finished toying with the cuts along your thigh, he stood from where he knelt in front of you. His mouth and chin were smeared with your blood, and you watched transfixed as his tongue licked along his lower lip.

He never kissed you, nor did you expect him to.

But as always, he would kiss his way down your neck, biting and sucking hard at the skin as he went, ensuring that you would be covered in near-impossible to hide bruises.

While he never said it, the currents of possessiveness that ran through his actions pleased you.

Down further, to your chest, nipping at the smaller cuts he had left there. A strange sort of excitement grew in the pit of your stomach, a feeling you had only recently become acquainted with.

You shook in your bonds, imagination racing. Anticipation rose, and you struggled to maintain your footing - he had raised those strange manacles he had summoned high enough that you had to stand on your tiptoes.

With a foot, Marik nudged your feet a bit wider, and for a moment you struggled in an attempt to find your new balance.

"Do you remember the temple metaphor?"

You swallowed. "Yes. Yes of course."

One hand reached between your legs, probing roughly at your entrance. You were wet, and you could see disappointment flicker across his face briefly. He had wanted it to hurt. Regardless, without any warning, he forced two fingers inside of your cunt, drawing forth a small cry from you nonetheless.

Marik leaned in close, coppery breath placing across your face. "I want to destroy you. Raze every part of you into the ground, so I can rebuild you to how I wish." There was no real pleasure from his fingers roughly pumping inside of your cunt. "And when I want to change you, I'll destroy you, putting you back together to how I want." His eyes were narrowed, and for the first time you noticed how his pupils were mere pinpricks.

A third finger shoved it's way inside of you, the stretch now a low burn that had you squirming slightly, tears gathering at the corner of your eyes. But as soon as he had forced it inside of you, his hand was gone, leaving you empty and whining.

"Please..." You leaned forwards, just enough that you could lick at the blood on his lips. "I want that - make me feel something," you breathed, "anything." Your pulse raced, your heart fluttered furiously within your chest, and it all felt so good, to revel in something and feel alive.

His hand - covered in your slick and blood - cupped your cheek, almost affectionately. His thumb ran over your bottom lip, briefly slipping into your mouth. You tasted blood.

"You will, my dear." His words were full of promise, and you smiled.

Then his hand was gone, and you heard the quiet sound of his zipper being undone, and he pulled out his cock. You bit back a moan; yes, yes, this was definitely part of what you wanted, and finally he was going to give it to you. Marik stepped even closer, and there was the clank of chains lowering you slightly so he could have a better angle. The tip of his cock brushed against your pussy, sending shivers up your spine. You tilted your hips, looking at him with heavily lidded eyes.

"Marik, please..."

But instead, he walked around to stand behind you, the chains lowering even further so you could comfortable stand flat on your feet. One hand pressed firmly against the middle of your back, so you bent forwards, presenting your ass to him.

As he thrust forwards, cock sliding in with one smooth movement, the chains raised once more, forcing your body to bow backwards sharply as his hand still exerted it's firm pressure against your back. You cried out, feeling the strain already start to settle in along your spine.

"This is merely for my gratification," he purred, and began to pound into you, giving you absolutely no time to adjust. "Your discomfort and pain....it's all for me, isn't it?"

"It is, yes, fuck..." It was uncomfortable, it wasn't pleasant, and there was barely any pleasure in it, and yet, for him, as it was him, you didn't care. Your heart raced so furiously you thought your chest would burst, and adrenaline flooded through your body.

"You'll let me take what I want, won't you?"

"Yes."

His other hand slid to your stomach, pressing against the scars.

"And I will. I'll reduce you to nothing - " His voice caught, and you could hear a moan being bit back.

"God, yes, Marik, I want....I want..."

His lips brushed against the shell of your ear. "I know, my dear. I'll put you back together, piece by piece." His voice had started to shake slightly, the pace of his thrusts stuttering. "And when I bore of you, when you cease to amuse me..." The hand on your stomach began to claw at your skin, making you moan.

"I'll kill you."

You felt him cum inside of you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I gotta stop posting so late at night, it's almost 3am.
> 
> Thank you everyone who read this, and as always, thank you for all the kudos/bookmarks/comments/etc. Y'all are the best.


End file.
